


To Touch and Be Touched

by sahiya



Category: White Collar
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Massage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-22 02:48:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/604972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sahiya/pseuds/sahiya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some nights, not even the thought of Kate waiting for him on the outside was enough, and he wondered if he'd ever touch anyone like that ever again. Eventually, he did - but it wasn't anyone he'd have ever expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Touch and Be Touched

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sholio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sholio/gifts).



> Happy holidays, Sholio!

Kate had always told Neal he gave great back rubs. When he was in trouble with her, which happened often enough toward the end, when everything he did made her suspicious, he could usually get back on her good side with either a back rub or the promise of one later on. She carried all of her tension high in her shoulders; he'd dig his thumbs in under her shoulder blades to start, then work his way up the back of her neck, until the noises she made turned less pained. Then he'd finish by pushing his fingers into her hair and rubbing her scalp with the pads of his fingers until she almost purred.

He'd missed those moments when he was in prison. There was a lot of water under the bridge between them even before she dumped him and he escaped, but those were always good times: just Neal and Kate, no worries about feds or cons, no interference from Alex or Mozzie. Pure, honest trust and affection. Later, Neal wondered if they had ever trusted each other outside those moments.

After Peter put cuffs on him that day in Kate's storage locker, it was almost five years before he touched anyone else that way. During long, dark nights in prison, Neal lay in his bunk and remembered what it'd felt like, Kate's smooth skin under his hands, her thick, dark hair twined around his fingers. It was erotic, there was no denying that, but mostly he just missed _touch_. Some nights, not even the thought of Kate waiting for him on the outside was enough, and he wondered if he'd ever touch anyone like that ever again.

Eventually, he did - but it wasn't anyone he'd have ever expected.

***

The ER on a Thursday afternoon was an inconvenient place to be, but not so bad, provided that no one you loved was in immediate, life-threatening danger. Throwing one's back out while pursuing a suspect across a roof did not count as life-threatening danger, even if Peter seemed to think it should, so overall, Neal was a lot happier than he could have been.

Peter had growled when Neal had offered to come with him into the exam room. Neal shrugged and stayed in the waiting area. Sooner than later, he got bored flipping through magazines, and started making an origami cat for the little girl who sat sobbing and clutching her right wrist in the seat across from him. He presented it to her, and she stopped crying in wide-eyed surprise. This earned him a relieved look from her mother.

"Can you make a dolphin?" the little girl asked, in a congested voice.

Neal smiled. "Your wish is my command."

By the time the little girl's name got called, she had a cat, a dolphin, a monkey, and two flowers. Neal had a bigger audience by then: two older kids had come over, and he'd pulled out the deck of cards he never went without. He did a couple of his simpler tricks, then showed them how it was done and let them try.

"Mr. Caffrey?" one of the nurses said. Neal glanced up. "Agent Burke is just about ready. He says you'll be driving him home?"

Neal raised his eyebrows. What _had_ they given Peter? "Yup," he said. He waved good-bye to the kids and followed her into the back.

Peter was sitting upright on the bed, pale and very glassy-eyed. “Hey, Peter,” Neal said, trying to catch his eye; Peter’s gaze kept drifting to the left. “How’re you doing?”

“Better,” Peter said, carefully. “They gave me some muscle relaxants.”

“Ah. That’s why I’m driving you home,” Neal said, trying not to sound _too_ gleeful. 

From the way Peter’s eyes narrowed, he thought he might not have succeeded. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be back to terrifying me in no time,” Neal assured him. “Got everything? Prescriptions?” Peter held up a bag with a couple of bottles in it. Neal grabbed his jacket off the bed and held it up to slip onto Peter’s arms. Peter moved stiffly and very slowly, but at least he was able to get into the jacket at all. Neal made sure he had his discharge instructions, and then the two of them left, Neal tossing a quick wink and a wave to his protégés in the waiting area. It was a hallmark of how off his game Peter was that he didn’t even notice. 

Peter dozed off somewhere between Midtown and the Brooklyn Bridge. Neal smiled to himself; it was rare, he reflected, that he got to see Peter in such an unguarded moment. He’d have thought it was cute, except he suspected that Peter would put him back in prison for even the thought crossing his mind. 

Peter stirred awake when Neal parked the car in front of his house, blinking blearily. “We’re here,” Neal said, since Peter looked like he might not recognize his own house. 

“Right,” Peter said, reaching for the door. “I’ll just, um.”

Neal glanced at his watch. It was three o’clock. “Is El working from home today?”

It took Peter several seconds to answer. “No,” he said at last. “She has a . . . thing. Tonight.”

“Did you call her from the ER?”

Peter frowned. “No. I’m okay.”

_Right_. “Well, I don’t think she’d want you to be home by yourself right now, do you?”

Peter frowned again, like this was a trick question. Neal wondered once again what sort of horse tranquilizers the hospital had given him and then decided he didn’t care. He got out of the car and came around to open Peter’s door and help him out. He pushed Neal’s hand away once he was on his feet, but Neal hovered right behind him as he made his way stiffly up the front walk. 

Neal breathed a little more easily once they were inside. He steered Peter into the living room and installed him in his favorite recliner, since the discharge instructions said that would be easiest for his back. “Heating pad or hot water bottle?” he asked.

“Upstairs, hall closet,” Peter grunted. 

Neal found the heating pad in the hall closet. He plugged it into the wall socket near the recliner and helped Peter sit up so he could position it between Peter’s back and the chair. “Is that too hot?” he asked. Peter, whose eyes hadn’t opened at all during the proceedings, made a noise that sounded like a negative. Neal decided that was the best he was going to do. He texted Elizabeth to let her know what had happened and to assure her that the situation was under control. She texted back, thanking him for looking after Peter and asking if he wouldn’t mind terribly staying over in the guest room, as she wouldn’t be back until her event until at least midnight. He told her that was fine. Then, satisfied that if Peter sobered up enough to get fractious, he could appeal to a higher authority, Neal settled back on the sofa in front of the TV.

A few hours later, Neal was dozing to the muted sounds of _Antiques Roadshow_ when he was woken by a groan. He rubbed his eyes, wondering if he’d dreamed the noise, but then Peter groaned again, and Neal sat up. “What’s wrong?” he asked groggily.

“I think the muscle relaxants wore off,” Peter said. He sounded much more alert and not at all happy about it. Neal heard him shift in the chair and then gasp. “My back is spasming. God, that hurts like hell.”

Neal was already on his feet, heading toward the dining room, where he’d left Peter’s pills. He filled a glass of water in the kitchen, then shook two of the pills out into his hand. Peter didn’t bother arguing that he didn’t need them, just swallowed them with the water. 

Neal pulled the ottoman over and sat down close to the recliner. “If it doesn’t get better in a few minutes, you can have some ibuprofen,” he said. 

Peter gave a jerky nod. “Thanks,” he said roughly. 

“No more than you’d do for me." Neal hesitated. “Can you roll onto your side at all?” he asked. “Just a bit?”

Peter frowned. “Why?”

“There’s something I want to try. Trust me.”

Peter shot him a narrow-eyed glare but turned, wincing, onto his side. “I’m going to touch your back,” Neal said, and did just that, touching Peter’s lower back over the thin fabric of his shirt. His skin was warmed from the heating pad and from the inflamed muscles just beneath it. Neal could feel how tense they were. The angle wasn’t very good, but Neal did the best he could, using his thumb to rub carefully across the muscle. Peter made a noise of surprise, and Neal stilled, waiting for him to demand just what the hell he thought he was doing. When he didn’t, Neal tried it again, just a bit harder. 

“Tell me if it hurts.”

“Everything hurts,” Peter muttered. But he didn’t tell Neal to stop.

This wasn’t the same as the backrubs he’d given Kate, once upon a time. Those had been erotic, not therapeutic. Neal knew that there was a lot about his relationship with Peter that was somewhat questionable, but this didn’t turn him on. To touch someone so intimately again, though, after so long without - and for it to be Peter who allowed it - Neal would have to be an idiot to say that it didn’t affect him. 

He got bolder after a minute or two, rubbing a bit harder. Peter made a noise that was somewhere between a sigh and a groan, and Neal, before he could stop himself, slid his hand beneath the hem of Peter’s shirt. There was a sudden shock of skin against skin, but Neal managed not to freeze, even as he felt Peter go very still beneath his hands; the slightest hesitation, he thought, and Peter would tell him to stop. But he didn’t hesitate, and Peter didn’t tell him to stop. 

He felt it when the muscle relaxants kicked in. Not only did the muscles under his hands relax, but Peter’s whole body did, too, slumping forward. Neal knew he should stop, help Peter roll onto his back, and move away, but he didn’t want the moment to end. Instead he walked his fingers up Peter’s spine, pushing Peter’s shirt out of the way as he went. Peter carried a lot of his tension high up, just like Kate had, Neal discovered when he dug his thumbs in under Peter’s shoulder blades. Neal wondered if El ever did this for him; if Peter ever did this for her. 

Between the muscle relaxants and the massage, Peter was more or less a puddle. Neal helped him roll onto his back and covered him with a throw. Then he sat back down on the sofa, watching Peter sleep and missing Kate with a fierceness that made his chest ache. 

“Hey,” Peter said, some untold minutes later. He opened his eyes. “Thanks for today.”

Neal managed a smile. “No problem. Anytime you want, just let me know. I’m always happy to drive.”

Peter gave a careful snort and closed his eyes. “Don’t hold your breath.”

Neal let his smile soften, now that Peter wasn’t watching. “Wouldn’t think of it.”

_Fin._


End file.
